Stay
by Dorkout
Summary: Tudor-Era AU Tom x Sybil. Tom Branson saves Lady Sybil, sister to the Queen and neither of them are prepared for what follows. Love, Duty, Honor and Fate with plenty of Branson Sexytimes to follow


This is a Secret Santa Prompt from the lovely Cassiemortmain who wanted to see an M-rated TomxSybil fic where Tom saves Sybil from a dangerous situation in the nic of time! She had a bunch of different options for time settings and I chose a kind of Tudor-ish era.

I want to thank Yankeecountess as well for her encouragement with this and Repmet for organizing the whole sha-bang!

I might make this a full on multi-chapter fic if the muse continues to bite and people seem to like it….

It was another night just like all the others. Wine flowed freely and lively music filled the hall. The tables were all set with flourishing bouquets of flowers, glittering jewels shinning from the gold plated vases dancing off the walls in the shadow of the firelight.

Sybil was trying her best to look interested and _interesting_. She knew that finding a suitable marriage was of the upmost importance but she couldn't help but feel so very bored by the whole process. Her sister Mary sat in the center of it all, enjoying the attention that was her due as Queen. Sybil stood as far removed from the revelry as possible while still technically a part of the celebration.

They were celebrating the marriage of her older sister Edith to Sir Anthony Strallan. It was a good match. Sir Anthony was one of the king's favorites and the marriage helped cement the Crawley's standing with the crown. They had been celebrating raucously throughout the day and night. There was a tournament earlier which Sybil had been surprisingly entertained at, and now the dancing had started. Sybil loved to dance but her father forbade it with anyone but perspective husbands and political connections. She wished she could be back home in the country where none of this mattered. She could read her books and be in peace.

The Duke of Suffolk, or Tommy Bellais as Sybil had known him growing up, was approaching.

"You looked like you could use one." He said softly, handing her a glass of something. Sniffing it Sybil gave him a neatly raised brow in question.

"It's not wine, but your sister drinks it. I pinched a glass from the Queen's own stores, I hope I won't lose my head over it!" He teased, trying to get Sybil to laugh. She always laughed around him, but tonight felt different. She felt the eyes of someone watching her but every time she turned around she couldn't place them.

"Thank you. In truth I could use something a bit stronger tonight. Papa is relentless with his marriage demands now that Edith has been claimed. Being the only unmarried Queen's sister is not a position I ever wanted." Sybil sipped the dark liquid and found the taste to be bitter but the effect warming and numbing which seemed just about perfect.

"Well, you know my offer still stands. As long as Imogen doesn't mind sharing the marriage bed, that is." Tommy winked at her. Tom Bellais was a shark at court for many years. Always teasing Sybil and her best friend Imogen as they grew up together. When Imogen had her coming out, Tommy was entranced and had left his playboy ways behind. They were due to have a baby soon, which was why Imogen was absent from the festivities. Sybil knew he spoke in jest, but felt a strange jealousy towards Imogen. She was in love, and had been able to marry for love, she had everything in life Sybil wanted. Sybil would not have the luxury of choice. A match would be chosen for her based on the best alliance available and she would be expected to do her duty. Sometimes she wished she could just hang it all up and join Imogen and Tommy in the country. Maybe not as his mistress, but as something else. If only she wasn't born to this position, _she could have been a nurse_!

"No use in delaying the inevitable. I better go find a descent looking one at least, before Papa lands me with one of the Greys."

Larry was her most adamant suitor at the moment, and not at all what she desired in a husband. If she had to marry, it would not be to him. Almost as bad as Larry was his father, who was also perusing her after the mysterious death of his wife. The Greys were not titled but they were rich. More so than the King and they desired a match to give them power. Nothing was more powerful right now than being related to the King and so they had set their eyes on Sybil.

"I came to see if you would like to dance, Lady Sybil." Larry's annoying voice spoke right in her ear. She was startled by his close proximity. He had no notion of personal space and also no notion of personal hygiene. Coughing at the stench that wafted towards her Sybil looked around for an excuse. Thankfully Tommy caught her look and swept her toward the dance floor, leaving their drinks behind with a very upset Larry seated alone next to them.

The Queen's sister was married today. Tom Branson was cheered at the prospect of having an income for the day but was becoming bored with the festivities. He had been hired by the King to take care of the horses for the tournament earlier in the day. The King had been so impressed with his skill getting them ready for the tournament that after one of the men jousting had become ill, he requested Tom take part in the competition. Tom had tried to politely refuse but with an odd number of competitors, it made the event lacking. The other men had jeered him but he managed to land two points to one of the other riders, earning him respect on his first try at the exercise.

He had been matched against Larry Grey, a pompous ass of a man that cared far more about the tassels on his saddle than trying to stay atop his horse. Tom had unseated him quickly. The crowd had gone wild, one Lady he couldn't see in particular had thrown him a lovely blue flower in congratulations from the stands. He had tucked the blue bud inside of his jacket, borrowed from his friend Gwen's husband's old clothes. He was away, fighting in the name of the King, but had been born a nobleman's bastard and had stores of things Tom was able to borrow. Tom was new to England, having been born and raised in Ireland but needed the work, and a new start. He had known Gwen from the times she traveled to see his family, being a distant cousin but a much higher breed. She always regarded Tom well and offered her assistance in securing him a position in the Royal household if he ever decided to make the move out.

He had come, and in just a few days had managed an invitation to the Queen's sister's wedding party. Having been the most loved at the Tournament earned him a seat at one of the tables and Tom was finding himself uncomfortable being surrounded by so much wealth and excess. He was used to a small table, his nieces and nephews chasing each other around the room and his mother screaming at the lot of them. It wasn't much but it was home. The room he sat in now contained no children, and the tables were lined with what appeared to be gold. He shook his head, not understanding the need to dress something as simple as table with…._were those peacock feathers? _

_Speaking of peacocks_….Tom thought as he noticed Larry Grey sauntering past his table. The man was dressed in a flourish of gems and glittering fabric. Tom looked beggarly next to the man, but so did most of the people in attendance. The great buffoon stopped behind an attractive young brunette who was talking to the Duke of Suffolk. He recognized the other man from the tournament earlier. He had congratulated Tom after his win and relayed the King's invitation. He was surprisingly nice and genuine, something Tom did not generally associate with the nobility.

The Duke looked possessive of the young woman, perhaps she was his mistress? Tom knew his wife was said to be at home, soon to be delivered and the Duke was a rumored lady's man. The woman looked so sweet though, so innocent. She also looked out of place. She had the same clothes as the rest of the ladies, the same swept up hair style, the same breeding, he suspected. But something was off. She was not married, no husband would in allow for his wife to be alone with the Duke, laughing so familiarly. And yet she was not preening and looking about as if on alert for prospective husbands. The short time Tom had been in service at the palace, he had seen all types of ladies filter in and out and he was able to categorize each and every one of them. There were widows, husband hunters, mistresses, daughters of lords, virgins, rich untitled, titled and poor. None of these fit the intriguing miss. She looked bored.

As soon as she recognized Larry Grey's voice though, she stiffened. The Duke spirited her to dance floor as they began a rigorous Volta. Larry looked put out, and Tom was drawn to the man for a moment longer than was polite to stare at someone so obviously rebuked of a lady's attention. He saw Larry's hand slip into his ridiculously loud and obnoxiously adorned coat and extract a small vial. After fiddling with it for a moment his hand rose over the two glasses left by the Duke and the young woman. Tom stared curiously trying to figure out what had just happened_. Had Larry put something into the drinks? Curious…_

Larry quickly made his exit, leaving the hall much more quietly than he had entered, skulking off into the darkness. Tom had a bad feeling about what he had witnessed and decided the best course of action was to quietly remove the questionable beverages before the dancing pair returned. Just as he was making his way toward the table the song ended and couples scattered off the dance floor in search of refreshments. He was a few feet from the table when the young woman whisked past him. She was practically gliding on air, so light and free after the dancing. Her cheeks showed a slight blush and her carefully pinned hair had loosened, allowing a few dark curls to come undone. She looked like an enchanted fairy, off to cause mischief on some poor fool. Whatever had her so disillusioned and bored before was removed, leaving a carefree young lady in its wake. He was struck immobile by her lively exuberance for life. Just as he was coming back to himself and remembered the purpose for coming over, she had lifted one of the glasses to her plump lips.

Instinct forced his body the last few steps toward her as he reached for the cup. Startled, she jumped back, the cup bouncing off of his hands and landing on the floor, a small bit of dark liquid dripping from the almost empty cup. He was too late. Whatever was in the cup had been drunk, and the drinker was now staring at him with the most confused expression.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" The Duke asked him, pushing the woman behind his back in a move meant to intimidate him and protect the lady. Tom didn't know how to answer. He couldn't accuse the absent Larry Grey of any act since he didn't know what, if anything he had put into the cups, and to do so would probably lose Tom his head at the very least.

"I…um…I thought I saw something in the glass. I was mistaken. Forgive me." Tom bowed in respect to The Duke and the lady.

A delicate hand shot out and into his line of sight. "No harm done, Lord…?" A deep feminine voice politely inquired.

Tom's hand reached up, taking the small hand in his large work-roughened ones and placing a chaste kiss to her soft knuckles. Raising up to his full height Tom braced himself to look into the eyes of the beautiful creature that had captured his attention moments before. "Tom Branson, milady."

They stared at each other, something inside of Tom surging and growing like a wave of connection. Something within him moved at the depth of meaning looking back him. He felt the first stirrings of home that he hadn't felt since leaving Ireland and it was equal parts amazing and unnerving. He wondered if he was alone what was happening between them but saw the young woman's lips part, her breath hitch and her eyes widen slightly. Her fingers twitched, still locked in his and he shook himself loose. He had to remember his place, and the large imposing Duke standing to his right and looking suspicious and guarded even though the lady had excused his blunder at knocking her glass from her hands in a completely unprovoked attack.

Recalling again the reason for his even being over there in the first place Tom began to politely listen to the Duke introduce him formally, listing his merits on the field and some vague reference to his class and origin of birth. Tom was taking stock of the young lady, checking for any signs of poisoning but finding her alert and well. Perhaps he was mistaken. Just as he was noticing how dark and incredibly long her lashes were, she lifted her eyes to his. They connected again in a moment that left Tom reeling from his body's response to her. He hadn't felt an immediate attraction the way he felt looking at her in all of his twenty six years. He struggled to reign himself in. She was clearly a lady, and he was too far beneath her to warrant much more than a passing glance, if he was lucky. Yet she stood there, between the two men politely as The Duke talked of the brewing war with France and the King's desire to see the wartime over as quickly as possible, while throwing curious glances in his direction. He wanted desperately to catch her eye again but didn't dare with the Duke staring down at him.

"Looks like its time for the bedding!" The Duke exclaimed as the room quieted to observe the age old tradition of carrying the bride off to wait for the attentions of her new husband.

"Poor Edith." The lady said under her breath.

"Do you know her well then?" Tom inquired.

_Did he really not know her_? It seemed an impossible thing recently that any man of marriageable age, _and sometimes decades beyond_, didn't knew of her and her worth to the crown.

"She is my sister." Sybil said simply, waiting for him to drop his act or to catch on. She supposed he really could just be new to the country and not familiar yet with its intricate political games. She should have paid better attention when Tommy was speaking about how he came to be in attendance tonight, but she was having a hard time concentrating. His eyes were so blue, and she had the strangest urge to throw off her embroidered slippers and crawl in a nice warm bed. She heard that his name was Branson, Tom Branson. The soft Irish lilt making the hair on her arms raise and anticipation course through her at his gentle touch. He did something with horses, Tommy was saying. Perhaps he bred them on his estate. The lights in the room were far too bright, making it hard to keep her eyes all the way open while watching her sister being led off to her first night as a married woman.

"Truly?" He sounded flabbergasted. She had the most peculiar urge to giggle and locked her teeth together, forcing an appropriate level of decorum to wash across her face even though her insides were fit to bursting. She managed a delicate nod as she heard Tommy explaining her family's history and how they used to play growing up. Mr. Branson looked mystified and that seemed to make Sybil feel even more giddy. It was probably time to call it a night.

Clearing her throat Sybil touched Tommy's arm politely as she spoke. "I think that's my cue to turn in as well. It has been a rather long day and I think I better check in on Mama before returning to my chambers. It was lovely to meet you Mr. Branson. I hope we'll be seeing more of you at court." She managed to say diplomatically while her insides did somersaults at the raised blonde eyebrow that greeted her statement.

"The pleasure was all mine, milady." He said, bowing deeply, something in his stare making her head swim. She needed to lie down.

"Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?" Tommy asked her. In truth she did wish he could accompany her, if only to have an arm to lean on, but she didn't want there to be any gossip following her around or getting back to Imogen containing anything suspicious or illicit. She wouldn't give the crows at court anything more to talk about.

"I'm fine. The castle is swarming with guards for the celebration. Good evening, Gentlemen." She curtsied quickly and made her escape. She had always been very good at hiding her discomfort, having had to learn at a young age rather than being disciplined by her evil governess for wishing to play outdoors with the rest of the estate's children. She feared tonight though she may have fainted had she not made her excuses in time. The gown she wore was tight around the bodice, making it difficult to breathe as she navigated the endless hallways and passageways that made up the castle. Stopping for a moment against the cool bricks of one of the many decorative archways Sybil closed her eyes as she fought to keep her eyes open.

The wall was rough against her cheek but her body felt like it was on a wave of feathers, floating and weightless as her mind drifted. She recalled needing to go somewhere or check on something but couldn't muster the effort required to move from her spot slumped against the wall. Just as she had decided that she would rest for a moment longer before continuing her journey to….wherever she had been headed she heard footsteps echo towards her. The hallway was fuzzy but she thought she could make out a figure approaching. The figure came closer and Sybil struggled to stand, not wanting to be caught wallowing on the floor of the palace hallways. Not very proper for the Queen's sister, no matter how tired or out of sorts Sybil felt.

"There you are my little bird. I thought you went and flew away but here I find you. No worries, I'll have you defeathered and caged up in no time. And on the marrow, with your reputation tarnished you'll have no other option but to marry me." The scent that engulfed Sybil as the figure bent towards her made her head spin even more than it already was and she wanted to vomit simply to remove the odor that lingered about her nose. She recognized the rotted scent but couldn't place the name it belonged to.

"Father will be disappointed he won't have you for himself but once I get a babe firmly rooted in your belly he'll have no cause to complain. And who knows, perhaps he can take a turn once I'm assured you've bore me a son." Recognition swam before Sybil's eyes as Larry Grey came into focus. Trying to push herself up Sybil discovered her limbs wouldn't respond to her. Something was terribly wrong but she could barely keep her eyes open, let alone attempt to escape.

"No…"She moaned quietly, not loud enough for anybody remotely near to hear.

He bent to lift her up into his arms and his scent assaulted her once more. Pressing his weight against her front Sybil's head lolled to the side as she shut her eyes, hoping the wave of nausea would pass quickly. Sybil felt a hardness press against her belly and her stomach rolled more violently at the realization. Larry grunted against her and Sybil felt tears collect at the edges of her eyes. She had never felt so completely hopeless. She was completely without hope, all alone down a deserted hallway while the rest of the palace danced and reveled in the party.

"Hmmm, I don't know if I can wait to have you. You feel so good pressed against me. Mmmm." Larry moaned and Sybil managed a strangled sob, barely audible against the pounding in her ears.

Suddenly Larry's weight was removed and Sybil collapsed in a heap of dress and tears as she registered fists against flesh and the grunts and crunching noises of men fighting. _No_, she corrected herself, _there was only one man fighting, the other was begging release after each blow, whining like a child until all sounds stopped. He must have been knocked unconscious, _Sybil thought. _Good_.

The last thing Sybil recalled was closing her eyes in relief, feeling safe with her rescuer's presence close, his rough hands sweeping the hair across her forehead as he checked for injury. The next thing Sybil knew was total darkness.

_He never should have brought her here,_ Tom thought, furious at himself and his short sightedness.

He had only considered the scandal that would erupt if it was known she was assaulted in such a sexual way. He had lingered in the great hall just long enough to not be seen as suspicious that he was following her out. Sybil. _Lady Sybil_ he corrected himself, had left abruptly but something was niggling at Tom to make sure she made it to her destination safely. There was nothing outwardly wrong with her but something still felt off. Although he barely knew the young lady, he was compelled to see her to safety, if only to quiet his own mind.

He had tracked her through the many twists and turns of the palace hallways, losing her briefly before coming upon her by chance near to where the stable entrance was located. The sight that greeted him was one that would be etched onto his mind for many years to come he suspected. At first he thought he had come upon a pair of lovers, escaped from the party and claiming a few forbidden moments. He soon realized how wrong his assumption was. Her hair was the first thing that made Tom pause. That perfect shade of brown like the earth, welcoming and comforting. The delicate curls that had come tumbling down her back from her delightful turn about the dance floor. A shaft of moonlight had lit just one escaped curl and he had known in his gut that Sybil was in terrible danger. He didn't think, he just acted. Once he had realized it was Lady Sybil it didn't take his brain long to connect the identity of her assailant. Larry Grey had changed his flamboyant adornments for a darkened cloak, his figure much more menacing in the barely lit hallway. The satisfying crunch of Tom's knuckles against the highbred cheekbones of the filthy swine he was beating sounded like the song of joy and happiness.

He didn't recall how long he pummeled the man, just long enough to quiet his pathetic protests and render him silent. Tom had stood slowly, breathing heavily and adrenaline rushing through his body. The image of Sybil's grimaced face, eyes closed in pain and defeat had nearly destroyed him. He had acted out of instinct, again.

After the rush of the confrontation he realized he didn't know what to do with her. If he brought her back to the party unconscious, some might assume he had taken liberties. With her unable to speak for him, he would surely be taken to the dungeon and possibly tortured as the King saw fit. If he left her there, he couldn't be assured she wouldn't be preyed upon by some other lecher that happened upon her. He didn't know where her chambers were and didn't dare carry her door to door inquiring. He worried for her reputation, knowing how the slightest smudge against a lady's character could destroy her in the eyes of many.

And so he done the only logical thing. Taken her back to his quarters. The Duke had given him rooms to stay inside the walls of the palace. Close to the stables, but still private enough to mark him as a guest of the crown and not a servant for the evening. It made the most sense, being as they were fairly close to his room there was little chance of anyone seeing him carrying her limp form down endless hallways as he tried to locate her people.

Once he had laid her onto the soft mattress though, his mind began to race. It probably wasn't the best idea to house her in his personal quarters as he didn't know when she would awake and who might spy her leaving when she did. None of those things entered his mind when he acted on instinct, yet again. Her hair had come completely loose from her pinned style, the curls fanned out against his pillow as she slept peacefully.

He reached down to brush one of the locks from her face. She looked like an angel or some creature of lightness his mother used to tell him about growing up. Sweet nymph like creatures that would dance on the mist at dawn. She looked like just as he had imagined. He doubted she had a rotted bone in her body and was amazed she didn't walk on air. Barely a few words between them and he was already completely knocked down before her feet. He knew there was nothing could come of his feelings, but couldn't stop them either way. He felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't quite explain. The heavens had shifted when he spoke to her and the planets had aligned around them.

She was starting to come around, her face scrunched up like a babe's awakened from its slumber. He chuckled low in his throat rested his palm against her cheek.

"Shh, it's alright, your safe now." He murmured soothingly. She sighed and stretched, bringing a hand to cover her eyes as she sat up. Her dress rode up slightly as she situated herself and Tom caught the flash of one creamy exposed ankle.

"I….What happened?" She moaned, coming to herself and realizing she was not in her own chambers.

Tom dropped his hand from her face, realizing the familiarity with which he touched her might lose him that hand. "Do you remember leaving the hall?"

She looked around confused for a moment before her face split into recognition and horror.

"Larry…he didn't…?" She asked, her face fearful as she finally looked him in the eye, trusting him to know the answer she so desperately needed. He wanted to hold her to him but feared that would cause a reaction in her and he wasn't quite ready to face the end to his impossible fantasy.

"No, I was there in time." He answered her looking down to give her an illusion of privacy. He didn't want her to feel shame in his presence.

"I didn't know where to take you, so I brought you back here I hope you don't mind. I didn't want people to talk." He finished lamely as the realization of what could have happened washed over her and she began to breathe heavily. Her hands started to shake and Tom decided to hang decorum and propriety and gathered her into his arms. Her head tucked perfectly under his chin and she fit neatly against his chest as if she was always meant to be there. He whispered nonsense to her as he tried to soothe her into calmness, the wetness from her tears soaking his borrowed shirt.

They sat together for an incalculable amount of time. It could have been minutes, or days. Tom couldn't tell. All he knew was that he was home. He rubbed circles around her back as he hummed an old Irish ballad in time with his motions. It seemed to work and she quieted.

Lady Sybil, finally calmed, had scramble off his lap like a kitten, eager to put space between them and Tom realized just how wrong his behavior was when faced with her outraged expression, her hair wild about her shoulders.

"Forgive me, milady…I…forgot myself for a moment. I only wished to offer you some comfort after your ordeal. I didn't mean anything by it. Please don't take offense." Tom begged, down on his knees, head bent in sacrifice as his brain caught up to his high reaching heart.

"No! I….I didn't think you were….I just…I should be going back to my room…" She whispered and Tom looked up into her eyes. They were warm and the depth of them threatened to swallow him whole if he wasn't careful. _He had to be more careful_.

"Of course. Let me grab you my cloak." Tom replied, stiffly formal as he awkwardly shot up and across the room to retrieve his riding cloak from the peg beside the door. Holding it up for her inspection she nodded her head silently as he moved to drape it across her shoulders.

"Now you won't be recognized." He said with a small smile, eager to have any weirdness between them evaporate.

"That is very thoughtful. And…thank you, truly, for everything you've done for me tonight." She was only a few inches from him, her head raised slightly to look him the eye as he tied the cloak about her shoulders. She smelled like pine and vanilla and his mouth watered as he breathed her in.

"It was nothing, milady. And you can trust that I won't speak of it to anyone." He said intensely, needing her to know he would protect her reputation. He had already protected her, ensured that Larry Grey wouldn't seek her out again at least until his bruises faded which Tom had ensured would be a long while.

She stared at him as intensely as he stared at her until his body shifted slightly towards her. She seemed to respond in kind until his hands slid from the tie at her slender throat to her shoulders where he brushed back her hair, as soft as he had imagined. He was acting too boldly, too inappropriately, keeping her eyes held the entire time, waiting for her to reprimand him, waiting for her to tell him to stop. Her lips parted on a sigh as his hands threaded through her hair and he mouth tilted up towards him. He knew he should stop. He screamed at himself to stop, to think of the consequences but all he could think of was the pain of living with not knowing what she tasted like.

He claimed her mouth just as she had claimed his soul the moment she spoke and he was lost to all but sensation and her guiding lips. He didn't press, careful of her innocence and station. He allowed her to lead him and each time she sighed into his mouth or tentatively touched her tongue to his made his blood boil. She was just as sweet as he had imagined. Her body leaned into his and he gathered her up into his arms again as he leaned back against the door allowing her to play the aggressor. He wanted to make sure she knew that she was in control.

_Wrong, wrong, no! She really shouldn't be leaning towards him. And she definitely should not be staring into his eyes imagining what his chest looked like beneath his shirt._ She spied a small tuft of light hair that danced in the firelight of the room when he reached to pull the cloak around her shoulders and something heavy pooled low in her stomach. She had never felt anything like it before but it made her want to tear off all her clothes and dance beneath the moonlight.

She shut her brain off as soon as his lips touched hers. She had never been kissed before and couldn't think of a good enough reason to stop him, especially when her body craved him so deeply. His lips were soft and he tasted of something sweet and cinnamon like. She wanted to taste him more fully and found herself pulling him against her just as he pulled her back as he rested back against the door. She knew she should stop herself but instead found her hands wandering down the planes of his firm chest and flat stomach. She wanted to feel his skin against hers and cursed the fact that her dress laced up the back.

She knew she acted brazenly but all she could think about was that she would someday marry someone like Larry Grey or worse and she would never know kindness in her marriage bed. If this was her only night to know pleasure and love, then she would take it.

She wanted to be free of all the responsibility that came with being Sybil Crawley and just wanted to act on her desires for once instead of pushing them down. Reaching for the tie at the base of his stomach Sybil found her hands immobile, locked in his large rough hands as he pulled her back away from his body.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking into her eyes. What she saw there convinced her that she was making the right decision. Love and kindness shown out from the deep blue depths of his soul and Sybil couldn't have asked for a better moment to release her inner self, if just for one night.

"I'm sure." She said confidently. He didn't have to be told twice and descended on her. Gripping at her gown, trying to find the lacings and failing miserably Sybil took pity on him and turned around. He took a moment to calm himself and then set to work at unwrapping her. In between the pulls and loosening of her ties he placed sweet, delicate kisses to her shoulders and neck, making her thighs clench and her body pull towards her center.

She didn't know what she needed but knew only that he could give it to her. Freeing her from her garment he spun her slowly as she lowered the fabric to reveal her breasts. Never break eye contact Tom bent toward her mouth, kissing her deeply on the mouth before pulling back and removing his shirt. The hair she had glimpsed earlier covered his chest in a way that was quite pleasing to her hungry eyes. Leaning towards him she boldly pressed tender kisses to his torso until he couldn't take the torture any longer. They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs and Sybil found her body fitting perfectly to his as if they were made as one. His hardness pressed against her center and unlike before, she thrilled at the feeling, wanting it more. She arched up as he kissed her lips, toying with them between his teeth as he ground his pelvis against hers. She needed him, and told him so. Humming low in his throat caused her womb to contract in anticipation.

Removing the last of their clothing removed the last barrier between them and he positioned himself at her entrance before looking into her eyes once more seeking permission. She applauded his chivalry but answered with a thrust of her hips, forcing him inside of her and creating the most delicious full sensation she had ever felt. Just as she wished he would give more of himself she began to feel a pinching inside of her. Knowing that it was her maidenhead and it would have to be broken through Sybil braced herself and pulled his body towards hers, forcing him to complete the ritual. She was woman, a maid no longer. She felt a moment's pause at what she had just done but then Tom moved. The pain at his first full thrust lessened as he rotated his hips around, his mouth licking and kissing up her neck teasing her towards pleasure. After that she couldn't recall much except for the feeling of being completely at one with another person, with Tom. Feeling her body move in response to his and he breathed out, she breathed in. They made love longer than Sybil thought was possible until she was hot and sweating beneath him, slick with their combined exhaustion when he roared her name and thrust into her once more before collapsing next to her, her body a jumble of nerve endings and energy.

She never though love making could be that amazing. She had heard talk of its power, making woman reckless and men lose their wits. She could understand why now. She wished she could stay in his bed always and never leave. She no longer saw the point of dressing or attending balls or dinners. When you could be doing _that_ why would anyone ever leave the bedroom?

Unsure of how to move forward after that, Sybil turned to face Tom, who was staring at her in awe and love. He said one word and her world was forever changed. No matter what happened next she knew she had found the person she was intended to be with.

"Stay." He had whispered. And she had.


End file.
